


Mischief

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison and Derek have beef, Alternate Universe - No Nogitsune (Teen Wolf), DID disorder, Danny Knows, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Peter Hale Being an Asshole, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles has DID, This is not a 'cure DID' fic, Warning: Kate Argent, slowburn sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The first time Stiles met Mischief, it was when he was eight.First time Stiles and Mischief met Void, it was after they ran from a crowd of bullies and got lost.Of course, there were a few other personalities that showed up every once-in-awhile, but the main trio was them.Until it wasn't and Stiles was left alone.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 16
Kudos: 126
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is about DID Disorder aka Dissociative Identity Disorder. (Popularly known as Multiple Personality Disorder)
> 
> The host, or person who takes primary "spotlight", is Mischief. Mischief is who we the audience see in Teen Wolf; he's the Stiles we know and love. Void is the "Nogitsune Stiles" personalty, and the primary protector.

The first time Stiles met Mischief, it was when he was eight. 

He’d never been vocal in class, let alone enough to hold a conversation with anybody nice enough to talk to him. He stared into space more often than he did anything else. But Mischief was different; Mischief took control when he couldn’t handle being in control. And that was all the time.

Ever since Stiles became aware that he and Mischief were a thing, he just simply let Mischief do what he wanted. They switched on and off but when it came down to it, Stiles was more comfortable having Mischief out than he was himself. So, Stiles stopped coming out for more than a few hours at a time a day, and it was almost always exclusively at home. Sometimes he’d come out while on a drive somewhere with his Dad, but he usually was alone and had just enough time to stay conscious before he started to stare off into space.

The first time Stiles and Mischief met Void, it was after they ran from a crowd of bullies and got lost. Mischief was jittery and nervous while Stiles remained dormant. He doubted Stiles would be able to grasp the severity of the situation anyway; they were lost and he didn’t know where he was. Granted, Beacon Hills wasn’t a big place but it was big enough to have a young Stilinski painfully aware that he was too nervous to ask for help and too scared to move from his spot.

And then the slow lull of his thoughts started and Mischief knew someone who could handle the situation was coming. His gaze loosened, lacking a focus that otherwise would have been there had he not begun the five-minute switch process between one person the the next. When Void came, he didn’t know where he was, but he and Mischief shared memories in passing. He knows where he’s been, and that’s a start.

Void walked the entire way home, and when he reached the front door, Mischief impatiently switched out with him. Which was fine, because he completed his task; keep them safe. 

It was all a routine; Mischief took control for most of the day, if not usually all of it, Void was there when things got too sticky for Mischief to handle, and Stiles switched in when things were too calm or boring for either of them to deal with. Of course, there were a few other personalities that showed up every once-in-awhile, but the main trio was them. 

Stiles _liked_ this routine. He liked not having to deal with life and just looking at the walls of his room or staring outside his window. It was his thing. 

What wasn’t his thing was being the person who woke up in the morning in bed. It jarred him, if he was honest.

He looked around stupidly, then tried asking for Mischief to take the reigns since he never was good at being done in a timely manner, but Mischief didn’t reply like he usually did. Weird.

So, Stiles tried his best. He didn’t see his Dad, let alone his mom (which weirded him out even more), but there were notes all over his (read: Mischief’s) room, signed by either Mischief or Void or other names he didn’t quite recognize.  
  


_Dad’s leaves early for work- Void_

_Check tires before leaving for school because fml i guess - Mischief_

_Stop leaving water bottle caps on the floor I hurt my foot :( - Tucker_

_Talk to Derek - Mischief_

_Text Scott abt Peter. Change locks on windows. - Josephine_

_Whoever left the oven on. Don’t. - Void_

_Woopsies lmao- Mischief  
  
_

A lot of the sticky notes only made sense if he read them in a specific order, although there were the odd few that didn’t really fit, like he was holding the missing piece of a puzzle already sorted together. 

Which was fine, because sooner than later Mischief or Void is going to take the reigns and he won’t have to keep himself from staring into space for much longer. He just needed to get ready for the day and _somewhere_ in there, he would feel Void’s slow nudge or Mischief’s lightning-fast jerk into consciousness.

It’s fine.

  
  
  
  
Turns out, he’s staying awake a lot longer than he thought he would. He got to school alright (despite drifting off the lane a few times) and parked… okay. He definitely could have straightened out, but with how hard Stiles was already grappling with staying focused, he knew it wouldn’t happen. 

Being of sound mind for more than a few hours at a time was exhausting. 

He wasn’t entirely sure where he needed to go for classes either. He tried asking for help from Void, for some kind of direction, but it genuinely wasn’t working. Which is even _weirder_ than not seeing his mom or being in the forefront for so long. He kinda wants to just turn around and hide in his jeep. He knows he could do it; he’s small enough and he spaces out enough that he won’t make noise.

“Hey, Stiles!”

He looked over dumbfoundedly at the guy who yelled at him. He’s walking over fast and judging by the pinch on his face, he looked worried. Or angry. Stiles wasn’t sure. There’s a girl beside him too, and she looked a little less aggravated. 

“Why didn’t you text?” He asked.

 _Usually I’m not present for conversation…_ Stiles thought nervously. 

He tried his best guess, “Derek?”

“No, _me._ Why would you need to text Derek?”

“Scott, just let him relax. I’m sure talking to Peter scared you, right, Stiles?” 

“Not really, I guess.” Stiles said and sort of just left it at that. 

He wondered if the withdrawn silence was supposed to feel awkward or if he was reading too far into it.

 _“Stiles.”_ Scott emphasized his name exasperatedly, “Look, we’re going to be late for class. Let’s just go and during lunch you can tell Allison, Lydia, and I what happened.”

“Okay, I guess.”

Scott and the girl shared a look, then walked off. He stood for a moment, trying to keep his eyes from unfocusing, and then forced himself to follow after them. Hopefully, he could skate by in High School like he used to in Elementary.

Awful plan. Horrible plan. Stiles has had to ask Scott multiple times what things are and each time Scott looks at him like he’s grown a third head. 

“Dude, what do you mean _what is y?_ Solve it on your own.”

“There’s letters.” Stiles glared down at the paper, “Does y mean 25?”

“Where did you get that?”

“Y is the 25th letter…”   
  


“Scott, what’s economics?”

Scott looked both mortified and embarrassed when he asked this while they walked to class and sat down. Beside him, a kid leaned into view and sneered at Stiles. 

“Stiles, Are you f’real?”

Scott glared, “Shut up Jackson, He’s just having a rough day.” 

“Clearly.”

Stiles felt like he was being ridiculed, but he couldn’t tell. He stopped asking questions after that, because he wasn’t sure about where he stood with these people and he wanted to give up. 

So, he let himself stare off into space. 

He knew it was a long time, he’s always had a general sense of time passing whenever he drifted off, but he expected it to be the end of class before someone tried getting his attention. Not the teacher waving a hand in front of his face, exclaiming his last name in a way that had Stiles thinking _maybe_ he’s had to be yelled at a little too much.

“Stilinski!”

Stiles blinked the focus back and when his eyes started to work with his brain, he tipped his head at the teacher.

“Well?”

“Um… Can you please repeat the question?”

“Alright, who can answer the question besides Stilinski?”

Stiles withered for the rest of the class period. He ditched the second the bell rang, and judging by how many kids were already leaving to go _somewhere_ _,_ it must have been the last class to go to for the day. He was planning on leaving the school entirely, but a hand gripped his arm and he was twisted to face Scott again.

“Dude, what is going on with you?” Scott eyes scanned him in a way that had Stiles wondering about his mom and where she was. “Where are you going?”

“Home…?”

“It’s lunch, Stiles.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose in distaste, “I want to go home.”

“... We’re calling Derek.”

Stiles knows that name. “That’s who I needed to talk to.”

“C’mon, I’ll call my mom, she’ll pull me out. Call your dad.”

Stiles nodded, “Where’s the phone?” 

Scott stared at him again, then made a vague gesture to his pocket, “Did you bring it with you?”

“I don’t know.”

Scott sighed, mumbling under his breath something about how he was going to kill Peter while dragging Stiles by his elbow.

Looks like he’s getting out of school anyway.

* * *

Stiles let himself lose focus for the rest of the time he was with Scott. They drove around a while after Scott got done yelling on the phone, picked up people he didn’t recognize when school ended, and then took to driving somewhere. He’s sure Void would be furious over how pliant he was to being semi-kidnapped, but that’s to worry about later.

He sunk into his seat and tried to lose himself in the blur through the windows, but people kept asking him  _ questions  _ that seemed more degrading than they were interested.

“What’s the date, Stiles?” Asked the redheaded girl.

“I don’t know.” He grumbled.

Scott chastised him, “Don’t lie.”

“His heart didn’t skip.”

“His heart has been steady this entire time, it’s making me worried. Stiles is  _ never  _ calm.”

“Don’t talk about him like he isn’t here.”

“Lydia, he’s barely listening now. Look at him, he’s just looking out the window!”

Stiles kinda wished Mischief would do something by now. He tried sitting up straight, to at least pretend he was Mischief, because that was the point of this entire thing. To keep them safe. 

“I’m listening.” He insisted, “I have ears.”

Jackson-- he recognized him from Economics class-- stared at him hard, “What’s the date then?”

He deflated a bit, “I’m going to be wrong.” 

“Just try.” The girl with black hair, the same one from this morning, smiled at him. Stiles thought maybe it was meant to be comforting, but he wasn’t sure.

He said the date he thought it was and was not surprised to see perturbed glances. 

“That’s a few months ago, Stiles.” Lydia said.

“Okay, let’s just start here!” One of the boys leaned in, right in-between Scott and Stiles in the front seats as if it wasn’t an awkward angle. “What  _ do  _ you know?”

“I don’t know.”

“You know my name?” He asked, “Isaac. It’s Isaac. Say it slowly,  _ eyee-” _

“He has amnesia, Isaac. He’s not deaf.”

“Guys,” Scott said, “let’s just get to Derek’s and he can help. He knows what Peter can do and he knows how to reverse it.”

“And if he can’t?” Jackson asked. 

Stiles watched in unconcealed wonder when all of the surrounding people looked at Jackson in unison. He copied them, although he was sure his look was not as convincingly chastising as the rest of them.

“Just wondering.” Jackson mumbled, fidgeting with his jacket, “Derek hasn’t exactly been the best help recently.”

“I trust him.” Stiles said, although he left out why. If Mischief wanted to talk to him, then it had to have been important. 

And whoever Peter is, he’s deciding not to like him.

  
  


As it happens, they were heading to a very scary house. 

“I don’t want to go in.” Stiles announced, tightening the strap of his seatbelt just to prove that he was  _ staying put.  _

“Stiles, we gotta go in, okay? It’ll be fine.”

_ “No.”  _

“Stiles,” Allison, he found out the girl with black hair was named Allison, “what if I hold your hand?”

“I’m not a kid.”

“But it’d make you feel better, right?”

Stiles contemplated it, then nodded and unbuckled his seat. He pushed open his door and waited specifically for Allison to come out to him and hold out her hand before he stepped out. He held onto her hand a little tight, just to make sure she wouldn’t slip out of his grasp because now that he was growing aware of it, he was entering a place Void would  _ never  _ let him enter.

He’s not sure if he’s scared. He hasn’t felt unadulterated fear in a long time. He decided to just stay close to Allison and hope for the best.

“Derek’s gonna be cool, right?” Lydia asked, “He’s cool with Allison?”

“Derek’s cool with Allison.” Scott nodded.

“How do you know?” Jackson asked.

“We talked.”

_ “Talked?” _

“Hey, Stiles.” Isaac looked back to where he and Allison were making slow progress to the house, “How do you feel about the Scott’s  _ talking your way out of things _ method?”

Stiles shrugged.

“Absolutely opinionless, huh?”

“Isaac, stop bothering him.”

“Okay, but what if-”

Everything got quiet and Stiles realized that they were in the house now and someone very tall was in the middle of the blackened, burnt wood. 

Stiles has decided he would like to go home now.

“Can I go home?” He asked, clueless to the stare down tall guy and Allison were having.

“No.” Allison looked at him, then back to Scott.

“Derek, what’s wrong with him?” Scott asked.

“Don’t know. He’s hiding behind the hunter.”

Stiles didn’t know he was hiding until it was pointed out and he decided that even though he was planning to pretend to be Mischief, he was going to  _ continue  _ hiding and stepped even farther behind Allison.

“He doesn’t remember anything.” Lydia said, “His last memory is months ago and he doesn’t recognize any of us.”

Derek tipped his head, “Did you check for claw marks?”

Scott stared and then looked at Stiles. “Did Peter claw you?”

“I don’t think so.” Stiles frowned and realized a little too late that his focus was very quickly wanning. He was going to stare off into space whether he wanted to or not. He needs to talk fast, or else he’ll cause more trouble for himself and Mischief later.

“I was supposed to talk to you.” He looked at Derek, finally letting go of Allison’s hand and edging just a little closer, “Um… Do you know why?”

Derek’s eyebrows pinched, “Why would I know why?”

“There was a note.” Stiles insisted, “Mischief  _ said  _ to talk to you. So what do we talk about?”

“Who is Mischief?” Isaac asked.

He felt frustrated that nobody knew about their trio. If he’s going to have to explain everything, he’s going to need a lot more than the few minutes he has before his brain decides to take a break.

“Mischief, other me. Not me-me, but like Void. I’m not going to explain everything to you right now, I just know Mischief said to talk to you and I’m not supposed to be here.” Stiles motioned to himself, “I don’t come out and socialize. I’m usually at home. Mischief and Void handle everything else. So, no, I don’t know you and I don’t know what we’re supposed to talk about. What I do know is that the people who  _ do  _ know are not coming out and I’m... not going to last much longer.”

Stiles needed to sit down but the grossness of the house told him he should probably just throw himself outside instead. It’d leave less marks on his clothes and it wouldn't upset his mom when she did the laundry later.

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, by his side faster than anticipated, “Are you dying?”

“What?” Stiles wrinkled his nose, “No. I’m gonna disassociate. I don’t control it, I just know when I need a brain break.”

Someone asked him another question, he thinks it was Isaac, but he turned around instead and walked out of the house to sit outside. Lydia followed him, sat beside him and tried to keep prodding him with questions, but he ignored her. He's always been good at ignoring people when he needs these time outs.

So, he chilled for the next few hours until his brain could kickstart again.


	2. Chapter 2

Something strange happened while Stiles disassociated. He usually lost all semblance of focus when he dazed off, but after some time of just staring at the same spot on the ground and letting garbled noises buzz by his ears… he could have sworn he could hear voices through it.

But they were distant. He knew offhandedly that they were in the far back of his mind and the harder he tried to hear them the less clear they became. What he did get was that it was Void trying to reason with him, which is what Stiles wasn’t exactly sure about. _He_ wasn’t the person keeping them from switching with him, he wanted that more than anything.

Stiles tried one last ditch effort to focus on the voices, tried so hard that his head throbbed and the place between his eyes felt like it was being cracked open. He quickly gave up, whining while he pressed a palm into his forehead and curled forward. 

That’s never happened. Then again, he’s never tried to focus while so unfocused before.

And then a real, spiking pain in the base of his neck shocked him and he was thrown clear out of his daze. 

Jackson’s laugh was the first thing he heard clearly, “Woah, that woke him up.”

“Stiles?” Lydia sounded a lot farther than what Stiles remembered her being.

“Did you _stab_ me?” Stiles asked, reaching his hand back to rub his neck. When he brought his fingers back, he winced at the smear of viscous red. “You did!”

“You wouldn’t wake up.” Allison said, as if it excused anything. Stiles decided to stop finding comfort in her. “We need to talk.”

“You don’t just stab people.” Stiles said, rocking up onto his knees and then staggering to his feet, “There’s… laws, or whatever. And it's mean. Who stabbed my neck?”

“Derek.” Isaac snitched.

“Quit whining.” Derek looked less agitated now, but he also looked more concerned than before too, “Take us to the notes at your house.”

“That was a ridiculous measure to go through.” Stiles still grumbled, glaring at Derek now and not exactly threatened when he glared back, “Fine, whatever. Go through Mischief’s stuff, what do I care?”

“This is so weird.” Jackson said, “Dude, stop referring to yourself as… that.”

Stiles locked eyes with Jackson and he wanted to threaten him with Void, because Void is the toughest person he knows, but he decided against it. Jackson has probably met Void and for whatever reason, these guys think Mischief and Void are the same person. That they’re _him._

 _And that’s the point of it._ He thought, feeling a creeping sense of guilt.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go to my room.” He said, trying to find some semblance of individualism now that he was apparently the personality that was kept out for longer than just an hour. “I mean… it’s… probably dirty.”

“Stiles, we need to go to your place okay?” Scott walked closer, “We think Peter messed with your memories and that's why you’re behaving this way. If there’s notes, it’s clues from you.”

“What am I even supposed to tell my mom when I have a bunch of people coming inside with me?” Stiles asked.

There was a sudden stillness to the air that he didn’t expect. 

“Wow, was that really that good of an argument?” He asked, a little excited because maybe that’s his thing; being good at arguing or something. 

It’s always seemed like Mischief and Void had their own thing, and Stiles rarely got the opportunity to explore what _he_ liked to do. He remembered loving to fingerpaint during class, or drawing with crayons, but when he started letting Mischief do all the hard work… It sort of left him.

_If I’m going to be out here, I deserve a purpose like Mischief and Void have._

That’s his goal from now on. Keep things running smoothly, do what Mischief and Void would want, and then find out more about himself. 

“Stiles,” Lydia said, breaking into his inner monologue, “please just let us see what they have to say? We won’t be a problem for your parents. They know us.”

Stiles decided that he could live with that, as long as his mom was alright with it.  
  


Surprisingly, his mom _still_ wasn’t around the house. It made him curious and confused, but nobody else seemed to pay attention to it. He led them all upstairs, opened the door to Mischief’s room, and started pointing out that they, the other personalities, put sticky notes nearly everywhere. 

He specifically pointed at the ones layered on his desk.  
  


_Pack double lunch 4 Liam - Josephine_

_why does Liam get a doube lunch he hasnt done anything ever - Mischief_

_ >:( bc he ASKED - Josephine _

  
  


_Peter possibly spotted on the outskirts of town, tell scott - Void_

_Told him. He doesn’t believe me - Mischief_

_Saw him on my way to the Nemeton. Not good. - Dick_

_Starting 2 get tired of Scott’s antics - Josephine_

“Who’s Josephine and why is she mad at me?” Scott asked, pulling at the sticky note and disrupting the neat lines down the desk. 

Stiles shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t talk to anybody. Usually it’s just me and Mischief and Void. Mostly those two, though.”

“So you’re the… backup plan, then?” Isaac asked, looking a little closely at the sticky notes, “None of them are signed by you, right? What’s your name?”

“Stiles.”

“Well, why does everybody else get different names?”

“I don’t know…”

“Why do they all go by your name?”

“They go by my nickname.”

“Ok, smart-ass, why do they go by your nickname?”

Stiles thought about it, then shrugged. 

“Do you know anything?” Jackson huffed.

“Just look at the notes and find something.” Derek said, roaming around Mischief’s room with a little too much familiarity, “Stiles must have left something to help us remember.”

“What about here? Josephine said something about seeing Peter.” Allison pulled the sticky note out and read it closely, “She said _Text Scott about Peter and change the window locks…_ What’s wrong with the window locks?”

Derek went over first to open the window and growled. Actually _growled._ Stiles inched away from him.

“They’re busted. Peter must have broken in and waited for Stiles here. Maybe that’s how he got him.”

“How’d Josephine get enough time to write the note, though?” Stiles asked, “If he… messed with my memories and suppressed the others… she wouldn’t have had enough time to do anything.”

“Are you saying Josephine is _you?”_ Scott blinked at him.

“Well… That’s kinda all I can come up with.”

“Dude. Are you a girl?”

“No.” Stiles’s cheeks heated up and he felt stupid all of a sudden, “Josephine is a different person. I’m Stiles.”

“But with the same body.” Isaac tilted his head, “I mean, who’s to say Stiles wouldn’t make an awesome girl?”

Stiles frowned. “Me.”

“Boys, pay attention.” Allison waved the sticky note in her hand, “Stiles’s right. I also think Derek is right. Peter must have busted in while Josephine was around and did something to her without her knowing.”

“Void should have been triggered if that’s true.” Stiles said, “Void’s our… guy. He keeps us safe.”

“Is there ever times where Void _isn’t_ around?”

“Um…” Stiles tried to think, really tried to, but sighed. “I don’t know. I’m… the most unintelligent out of everybody.”

Lydia‘s lip twitched into a frown, “Why’s that?”

“I’m the one that dissociates.” Stiles shrugged, “I kinda lost… control of it when I was eight. It just became easier to let the others do what they want and let me out when nothing was happening.”

They regarded him, and Stiles wished he understood the looks on their faces. He couldn’t tell if they felt bad or if they thought he was insane. 

“If you know Void’s triggers, do you know the others?” Allison asked. 

Stiles _was_ about to say no, but then the information appeared in his mind and he felt a spark of excitement. He did. He knew all of the personalities triggers. 

“I do.”

Allison nodded, “Let’s trigger them out, then.”

“I can’t believe I know something.” Stiles said enthusiastically, “Like, usually I don’t know anything. I don’t have a clue about why I know these things. This is _awesome.”_

“Well, tell us what... _triggers.”_ Jackson encouraged.

“Josephine’s Taylor Swift,” Stiles listed off on his fingers, “Mischief is out whenever he wants to be, Void is our protection guy so he comes out to danger, Dick comes out when he needs to study something, and Tucker is out when we’re sad. Tucker’s the person who holds all of the trauma, besides me.” 

“So. Danger.” Jackson suggested, “Let’s just threaten Stiles!”

“Won’t work.” Derek growled. 

“Why not?”

Stiles watched Derek come up on him, grab his shirt and lean in close. At first he thought Derek was going to kiss him, but then the guy growled and his eyes bled red. He blinked and wondered what the effect was supposed to do. 

“Not even a jump in the pulse.” Scott said ruefully. 

“He’s too calm.” Derek said, backing off, “Has the survival instincts of a child.”

Stiles wasn’t sure if that was meant to be encouraging or mean. 

“What about Taylor Swift?” Lydia suggested, pulling out her phone. 

“Let’s have that be a last resort.” Jackson put a hand over her wrist lightly.

“Nothing to urge Stiles to research…” Isaac glanced at Scott, and Stiles knew what he was getting at. 

“Make me sad.” He insisted, “I can do sad. Tucker will come out and I’ll be fine, you guys will be able to talk to someone who knows what’s going on.”

“Guys.” Scott looked at everybody but Stiles, “Let’s not, okay?”

“If we don’t get Stiles back now he’s gonna find out sooner or later.” 

“How about _later,_ then?”

“Scott.” Derek grunted, making a vague glance in Stiles’s direction. 

“Don’t worry.” He encouraged, “I won’t remember it. You’ll tell me, Tucker will come out, and it’ll be the last you see of boring Stilinski.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably, then bit his lip. “Stiles, your mom isn’t… she’s not home because she’s dead. She’s been dead for a while now.”

Whatever Stiles expected out of Scott’s mouth, it wasn’t that. He could feel that it was true, because suddenly everybody seemed ready to hear him wail in despair. Or cry. He wondered if that’s what he does or if it was normal. 

All Stiles really felt was a pain in between his eyes and the distance between him and reality forming. Which was good. He was losing control and someone, hopefully Tucker, was coming to take it. He could feel the closeness of their trade off, the relief of the rest of them knowing someone else was finally stepping in, up until the pain in between Stiles’s eyes became too unbearable and he screamed. It felt like his head was being torn open and no matter how hard Tucker tried, it just made it worse. So he backed off, and Stiles found himself with his back against the wall and his chest heaving. 

He touched his forehead to check for blood. There was none. 

“Something's keeping it from working.” He gasped out, “Tucker was there, he was coming. Something stopped him.”

“Mind magic.” Derek grumbled. 

“That’s a thing?” Scott asked.

“When will you get that _everything’s_ a _thing?_ Clearly Peter figured out a way to use mind magic, which should be impossible, because only strong alphas can do it.”

“What do you mean?” Isaac asked. 

“Alpha’s have the ability to read or take away memories. Peter’s clever. I’m sure he sunk his claws into Stiles and shifted something around in there.”

“It hurts here.” Stiles pointed where he felt his head split, “Tucker kept _trying_ but he stopped when he realized it hurt.”

“Are you okay?” Scott asked, by his side now and brushing away his fringe to check the place Stiles pointed at. 

He nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry.” He said, and Stiles could tell he meant it. 

He didn’t know how else to react, so he just nodded.

“So, drawing out other-Stiles didn’t work.” Isaac made a nervous titter before he continued, “What do we do now?”

“If Peter can do Alpha abilities, is he an Alpha?” Allison frowned. 

“How could he be?” 

“It’s not impossible.” Derek said, “There’s more than inheriting an Alpha’s power.”

“Can you steal it?” Stiles asked. He remembers getting in trouble all the time because he would take the teacher’s things from her desk. 

“... Yes, in a sense.”

“Well, crap.” 

“Don’t freak out,” Scott said, helping Stiles back onto his feet, “We’ll figure it out.”

“What if we just steal it away from him?” Stiles suggested, “Or what if we just ask him to fix what he did?”

“I know you’re, like, stupider right now,” Jackson crossed his arms, “but that’s the dumbest idea I’ve heard yet.” 

“I don’t think Peter’s an alpha.” Derek said, “An alpha-Peter would see memories by digging his claws into Stiles’s neck. Not like how I did, either. Without the healing we have, he would still have the cuts there.”

“We?” Stiles asked, “Like… people named Derek?”

Jackson shared a look with Lydia, then looked at him, “The more you talk, the less I like you.” 

“I’m loving every second of it.” Isaac said, “Yeah, people named Derek. That’s exactly what he meant.”

Stiles preened. Isaac is his new favourite.

“So, is the plan just to find Peter?” Lydia asked, “What about Stiles? There’s no way he’s going to last at school. And what about his Dad?”

Stiles forgot about his parents-- _parent._ He has one parent, his dad. He wasn’t sure if he was over the shock of the news yet. Why would the others keep this information from him? Surely, they knew about it. _Mischief_ at least knew about it. 

“Stiles wouldn’t want his dad to worry.” Scott reminded.

“Then we hide it.” Allison said, “Someone needs to be by Stiles all the time.”

“Even at home, please.” He asked, “I’m not very good at… people.”

“Reading social cues?” Lydia said and Stiles really didn’t know if she was guessing or correcting him.

“I guess.”

“I can help with that.” Scott put a hand around his shoulder, “I used to sleep over at Stiles’s place all the time anyway.”

“Can I do anything helpful?” Stiles asked, “I know I don’t know a lot, but maybe I can do something.”

Silence.

Scott patted his chest, “For now, let’s just get you a basic understanding of algebra, okay?” 

“What’s algebra?”

Isaac whistled, “Man, I’m so glad I’m not you.”


	3. Chapter 3

“What do you  _ mean  _ the letters are multiplied by co-fences?”

“Look, just watch me, okay?” Scott started writing on Stiles’s paper, “See? You take away that two because it’s multiplied by the letter x, and you want to find out what x is. What you do on one side has to go to the other…”

“So… 3 is x?”

“Yeah! See, you got this!”

Stiles perked, “I got this. What’s it called again?”

“Algebra.”

“Got it. I can do algebra.”

“Exactly, and if you need help, we sit right by each other so I can just lean over and work with you. We do it a lot anyway  _ and _ we could ask Lydia for help.”

“I kinda like math.” Stiles said, trying to start the next practice problem Scott gave him. He wasn’t sure if he actually liked math or if he wanted to be good at something, but so far Scott has been an awesome teacher and he likes being able to understand things.

“Don’t get too excited, I gotta get you all the way to logarithms and I  _ know  _ you hated those.”

“Logarithms? What are...” Stiles looked up as the bells rang and then looked at Scott, “What’s that mean?”

“First period starts in five minutes.” Scott held out a hand and hauled Stiles up from the hallway floor. “We’ll practice again tomorrow okay? Wanna come in early again?”

“Yes.”

“Awesome.”

  
  


Stiles fought for most of the school day trying to keep himself focused. When he woke up this morning, he had been energized and excited to attend  _ real  _ school, like the ones he saw on TV. He had completely forgot he had a focusing-issue. Even with Scott’s constant helping, he couldn’t keep himself from spacing out and staring at random things until fifty minutes had whizzed by and he missed whatever was being taught.

He’s nearly convinced that if Scott wasn’t constantly waking him up by pinching his neck or poking his stomach, he would have disassociated throughout the entirety of the school day. It makes him feel useless.

“I’m not cut out for school.” He decided while on his way to lunch with Scott, Isaac, and a new boy who Stiles figured out was Liam.

“I could have told you that.”

“Isaac.”

“Listen, Scott, you gotta tell it to him how it is.”

“He’s  _ learning!” _

“You’ll get it,” Liam said, “you’re really smart when you want to be, Stiles.”

“I guess.” Stiles frowned.

“You are!”

“Ok, kid,” Isaac scoffed, “Don’t be fillin’ tinman’s head with lies. He doesn’t even know what the year is.”

Stiles didn’t actually know what the year was so he just nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders. He’ll find out what the year is tomorrow, right now he just needs to try hard not to end up disassociating again.

He followed Scott to a table where Lydia and Allison were at. He noticed Jackson wasn’t there and made a comment about it, but Scott just shook his head and had a look on his face that said _let it go._ He didn’t understand what that meant, so he just decided it was one of those things he’ll never understand. Like economics.   


“How’re you doing, Stiles?” Allison asked. She was smiling, but he couldn’t tell if she was happy. Maybe she was. His brain seemed more interested in zoning out than it did focusing on her, so he rolled with it and just shrugged his shoulders while staring down at the table. 

He can’t focus anymore. School is too tough and the longer he stays, the more he feels like he’s back at his old Elementary class. He kinda wishes he  _ was  _ still in Elementary school. 

“Stiles? You back with us?” 

“Sorry.” He blinked the fuzzy vision out of his eyes, “It’s hard being, um,  _ here  _ all the time.”

“Why is that?” Lydia asked.

“I haven’t done this since I was seven, or something.”

“Seven?” Scott looked at him incredulously, “What does  _ that  _ mean?”

Stiles didn’t understand the question, so he shrugged.

Isaac cleared his throat, “Maybe it means whatever Peter did messed up his entire brain.”

“Isaac.” Allison snipped.

What Isaac said did have Stiles wondering, though. Whoever Peter was, he did something to the others. He knew Void and Tucker were still around, but what of Mischief? Or Josephine? How can he talk to them again? 

“I wish I could talk to them.” He said, cutting off a side conversation between the four of them, “If I could just get the information from Mischief, everything would be okay again. Mischief knows everything.”

“I actually wanted to ask you a few questions about that,” Allison scooted a little closer to the table and her voice hushed, “You said you didn’t have enough time to explain back at the Hale house, could you explain now?”

He frowned.

“Y’know,” Scott nudged him a bit, “About you and Mischief… What was the third guy’s name?”

“Dick?”

“No…”

“Allen?”

“I think it was Leonard.”

“Troy! It sounded like Troy.”

Stiles frowned, “Void?”

A chorus of  _ yeahs!  _ followed and Stiles wondered just exactly how little they all knew. Sure, he didn’t understand what economics was or how to use a logarithm, but he at least knew the names of the other alters.

“Did Mischief not tell any of you about us?” He asked.

“Stiles never mentioned a thing about… um… those people.” Scott said.

“Which is why you think we’re something Peter did?”

“Exactly.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose, “That’s stupid.”

“Tell us why.” Lydia encouraged, although her face told him it probably wasn’t out of curiosity.

“If it was Peter who created the others, then who wrote the notes in Mischief's room? There’s too many to be made in just one night.” Stiles shook his head, “Look, the honest answer is that you weren’t  _ supposed  _ to know about the rest of us. I shouldn’t have…”

He trailed off, not exactly sure what he shouldn’t have done. He shouldn’t have asked what Mischief wanted to say, gotten desperate to talk to Derek the second he saw him, or headed to school that day. He wished he noticed that something was wrong a lot sooner.

“I shouldn’t have told you.” He said finally, “Because you weren’t meant to know anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell us? We’re pack.” Scott made a vague motion with his hand, “You've always talked about...”

Stiles zoned everything out and picked the dirt out from his nails. He didn’t know what pack meant and he didn’t really care about the conversation anymore. All he felt was guilt for being the person to let it all slip. Maybe Mischief could come up with a believable lie and fix it when Scott and he figure out a way to bring everybody back.

. . .

Stiles handled the rest of the school day the way he normally does; stare into space and shrug when someone asked him a question. He was excited to go back home, because he knows that Scott will be there with him and he promised to teach him how to play Mario-Kart, but Scott said something about a “practice”, and that they needed to do that before they went home for the day.

Stiles still didn’t get it.

He just followed Scott’s lead, put on the clothes he had in his locker (or, at least what Scott told him  _ was  _ his locker), and followed him out to a field. There were a bunch of other kids there, nearly all of them taller and bigger than he was. He recognized Isaac and Liam though and when he tried to go up to them, Scott gripped his wrist and shook his head.

“Look, Coach is letting us have an easy practice day today. I told him you had a head injury last night.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know you didn’t!”

“Then you lied to him.”

_ “Yeah,  _ I lied to him, he-- Look, Stiles, I’m just gonna stick by your side today, okay, and let you get a feel for lacrosse practice. Then you have to handle this on your own.”

“What’s lacrosse?”

“Oh, God.” Scott whispered to himself ruefully, letting go of Stiles’s wrist and heading off when Isaac called him over. Stiles would have followed but Scott muttered an angry  _ stay here!  _ and he figured it would be best if he listened to that.

Least, until the adult he  _ assumed  _ was the coach blew a noisy whistle and demanded for them to line up at the start of the track. He watched everybody else get into position and shifted his weight until he decided to do the same. It was a little easier to slip into the group because none of the other students seemed to pay him any attention other than a side-glance or quick look over. He wasn’t sure what any of that meant.

“How long have we been in lacrosse?” He asked Scott once he came back from his quick talk with Isaac, “Nobody’s spoken to me yet. Are we new?”

“Not exactly.”

“What’d Isaac want?”

“Um... don’t worry about it.”

“Has it got to do with Jackson being missing?”

Scott looked alarmed, but shook his head slowly, “No, it’s got nothing to do with Jackson… and he isn’t missing.”

“Where is he?”

“Can you just focus for a second?”

Stiles snorted, “I guess.” 

He wanted to say  _ That’s a ridiculous question, of course I can’t focus,  _ but Scott didn’t seem to be in the mood for backtalk and he didn’t want to get into trouble.

“Coach is having us warm up, so we’re going to run three laps on the track. It’s just a warmup, so don’t feel bad about being slow, okay? I’ll take it easy with you the first lap, and then I’m gonna need to run at my normal speed.”

Stiles wanted to ask more questions, but he swallowed most of them down and nodded. “Can I run beside you if I can keep up?”

Scott laughed a bit, “You won’t be able to.”

“What if I can?”

“Stiles, if you can keep up with me, go for it. But don’t feel bad if you can’t. Try running with Danny first.”

“Who’s Danny?”

_ “Me.”  _ Scoffed the man next to them, “Geez, if I didn’t know any better, Stiles, I’d say you had amnesia.”

“I do.” He said, just as Scott tried to interject with a quick  _ Nah, he’s just joking. _

Danny lifted a brow and looked between the two of them.

Scott got a defeated look on his face, “I’ll explain later.” 

Danny nodded.

Stiles couldn’t help it. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, Stiles.” Scott mumbled, “You’re not. When Coach starts screaming at us to run, just start running, okay?”

“Okay.”

Coach yelled at them to  _ Go!  _ About ten seconds later and Stiles ran like Scott told him too. At first, he wanted to catch up with the people who were  _ really  _ in the lead, like Isaac, but he remembered that Scott told him to stay beside Danny, so he did. 

If he was honest he didn’t know why Scott kept acting like he  _ wouldn’t  _ have been able to keep up.

“How’re you doing that?” Scott asked by the second lap.

“Doing what?” 

Scott got ahead of him and Stiles  _ swore  _ he saw his eyes turn a different colour, just like how Derek’s had. He left Danny’s side and caught up with Scott.

Scott’s eyebrows shot up,  _ “That!  _ How’re you doing that?”

“Am I not supposed to run by you?” 

Third lap.

“No!”

“But you  _ said--”  _

Stiles’s eye caught someone in the background, far from the track but close enough for him to focus on. He saw long blond hair and hissed when his skull felt like it was trying to crack itself open. He slowed down his run, much to Scott’s chagrin, and tried to erase that pain in his skull by shaking his head clear.

“You good?” Scott asked, beside him again.

“Head hurts.” He said, “Running helped me focus but then I saw this girl and...”

“...Okay, see where Isaac is?”

“He’s  _ really far  _ ahead.”

“Catch up to him.”

Stiles knew he couldn’t, but Scott picked up the pace and he quickly followed after him. If he was honest, his body  _ was  _ beginning to feel like it was on fire but he kept up and that’s what mattered. 

By the time he finished the last lap with Scott, he was panting and the ache in his skull was missing. 

“Jesus.” Scott whispered.

Danny walked up to them, blinking owlishly at Stiles, “How’d you do that? Did you practice or something?”

“People practice running?”

“...Scott, how badly did this weeks monster fuck up Stilinski?”

“Bad.”

“You didn’t  _ bite  _ him did you?”

“No!”

“Why would Scott bite me?” Stiles asked.

Scott pushed Danny away and squeezed Stiles’s shoulder, “Just ignore him, dude.”

* * *

After practice was over, Stiles felt like he could nap for years. If practicing for lacrosse wasn’t such a good de-escalator to his dissociation, he would have left after Coach made them do thirty pushups. 

He found out today that he isn’t meant for physical activity.

“Hey, Stiles,” Scott slapped the back of his shoulder and sat on the bench beside him, “how’re you feeling?”

“I wanna sleep.” He sighed, “Can I go to bed when we get home?”

“Yeah, yeah, but, um… after you answer a few questions, okay?”

Stiles whined, “I don’t want to answer questions.” 

“Just one, okay?”

_ “Hmph.” _

“How’d you run that fast?”

“I don’t know.”

“No, c’mon, you gotta know  _ something.” _

“I know I want to go to bed.”

“Stiles, please, man. It’s important.”

“Can we talk about it on the way home?” He asked, “I don’t wanna sit here anymore.”

Scott hesitated, but in the end gave a smile and nodded, “Yeah, man. Let’s go.”

Stiles followed Scott back to his jeep, gave him the keys and climbed in the passenger seat. By the time they pulled out of the school parking lot, he had shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat and Scott, thankfully, didn’t bother him.  He thought maybe, just maybe, he felt like someone was going to take the reins from him again. Normally Stiles would have let it happen happily, but he remembered what pain Tucker caused him, so he jerked away from the blissfulness and when he opened his eyes, he was at the front door to his house.

“How’d I get here?” He asked when Scott opened the door for him and walked in.

“You slept all the way over, remember?”

“How’d I get to the door?”

Scott blinked at him, “... What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t get out of the car and walk to the door.”

“Yeah you did, you talked to me the entire time… wait, your heart didn’t skip.” Scott’s eyes widened, “You’re not lying.”

Stiles would have rolled his eyes had Scott not got the look of pure terror. He just shrugged and walked in the house, shutting the door behind them and went straight for the kitchen. He wants a bottle of water.

“Wait! Hey, wait, why aren’t you surprised by that?”

“Because that’s how we work.”

“That seriously doesn’t help me, man.”

Stiles uncapped his water bottle, “What’d I say to you?”

“Something about homework and how you weren’t looking forward to it.” 

“Well… that wasn’t me.” He took a pause and tipped his head to one side. If it wasn’t him who spoke to Scott, then who was it? He could have sworn that the others were unable to come out. “Did… Did I act like everything was normal?”

“Yeah… actually, you did. You acted normal.”

“Then that means there  _ is  _ someone else, someone besides me.”

Scott stared and then nodded slowly. “Allison thinks she knows what’s going on with you. I think we should call in the pack.”

“Okay.” 

He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t as excited about bringing someone else out like he was yesterday. A bit of him was worried that maybe he  _ wasn’t  _ the only one able to come out, which means he’ll have to go back to being the person who rarely ever comes out. He liked coming out and talking to people, he especially liked being able to explore what might be his  _ thing.  _

He desperately wished he had a thing like the others do.

He nervously picked the dirt from under his nails while he watched Scott text a message. “Scott… if there is someone else, and they come out, can you make sure that… that I get to come out too? I like being out. I know Mischief and Void think I can't handle it, but I do like it.”

Scott looked at him. He was smiling, but he also looked sad. “Yeah, Stiles. I’ll… I’ll help you come out.”

Something about the way Scott couldn't hold eye contact with him made him hesitate to believe him.


End file.
